


Ventress Likes to Play with Fire

by ilyena_sylph, Merfilly



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Drug-Induced Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Extremely Dubious Consent, Frottage, Fuck Or Die, Hand Jobs, Multi, Polyamory, Repression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-08 22:26:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6876451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilyena_sylph/pseuds/ilyena_sylph, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ventress had a prize in mind. Anakin, however, strenuously objects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ventress Likes to Play with Fire

**Author's Note:**

> //words// = mind-speech  
> /words/ = thoughts
> 
> This one is completely unabashed 'Yena wanted to wallow in Feelings and Chaos with an old favorite trope'. Enjoy!

All she had wanted was to capture Kenobi, break his serenity. Once she had what she wanted, she'd turn him over to Dooku, and have enough bargaining power to take her time on Dathomir to attend to the unpleasant side of her goals.

The magic, for such it was, in the most arcane lore of the Nightsisters, was designed to incapacitate Jedi abilities, and leave them fully at the mercy of a Nightsister. She had the poison, had it prepped in a saberdart, and was in place. Nothing but the yellow of Kenobi's clones was showing on the troops, and she had Kenobi in sight.

A quick fire of the dart-thrower, and she would be down and in among them in violent chaos before they could react…

… and heartbeats after she committed to that course, already flinging herself down toward the camp, her intended prize falling on the ground, that mad dog of a wild, too-emotional Knight appeared.

"Blast it!" she growled, changing her landing to engage Skywalker.

He hadn't really been supposed to be here. The 501st was two systems away, dealing with the aftermath of an invasion on a center-rim world, but he'd left Ahsoka running the mop-up and headed for Obi-Wan's position because they were deep in trouble and he'd had the strangest feeling that Obi-Wan needed him. Slipping in under the droid ships with just a fighter had been easier than trying to get the _Resolute_ in, and besides... it hadn't been the troops he sensed Obi-Wan needed. 

He'd just arrived, had been jogging to where Obi-Wan was, when he heard him cry out and saw him fall in the next moment. A flash of red and pale told him who was responsible, and he moved faster to get between his former Master and the Dathomiri witch, calling out her name in challenge as he did. 

"You should not be here!" Asajj spit out at him, both her sabers lit and in separate hands, spinning the one in her left as she got her balance, and then she was lunging. The ferocity of her attack was over and beyond her normal economic, quick fighting; she intended to try and disable or kill this obstacle to her plan

"Yeah, well, I'm good at being where you kriffing Sith think I shouldn't be," Anakin retorted, parrying her lunge (the force of it echoing up his forearms) before he struck in return. Obi-Wan was _down_ behind him, down and not getting up...he sank himself deeper into the Force for this fight, wanting to end this and get to his Master. 

Asajj recognized the Jedi battle meditation, tried to give herself into one of her own… but the damnable boy was stronger than she could take. She fought as long as she dared, but with a snarl and a quick release of two flash bombs, she was forced away or else risk death.

"Damn you, but at least I know you've damned him to die!" she hissed as she fled the fight, making Skywalker pay attention to the fallen Master rather than pursue her. She growled in frustration; Kenobi was such a prize to lose!

Obi-Wan was downed, but he wasn't truly unconscious so much as unable to respond to any stimulus that was not pressing against his skin. Of which, there was far too much, as his tunics and leggings were binding his hot, feverish skin. He moved with whimpers, trying to find a way to get the belts open, but he was too dazed by the chemicals pouring through him, reacting with every attempt of his healing by heightening their effect.

/'Damned him to die!'?/ the mix of gloating and rage in Ventress's voice had Anakin abandoning any attempt to chase her in favor of getting back to Obi-Wan. He raced across the distance between them, lightsaber back on his belt, and skidded to a halt down on a knee, his hand reaching for his Master's throat to check the pulse. 

His skin was almost burning hot, and Anakin jerked the saberdart (he was really tired of those things) out of his skin as soon as he saw it. "Master? Master, I'm here, can you talk to me?" 

Obi-Wan felt blessed touch against his throat, and bared more of it to that pressure, a rough moan escaping him before he whined at the touch moving. A stinging pain where the dart had been did little to distract him as he gravitated toward the body near him, hoping for relief from the burning in his veins, from the unwelcome texture of cloth binding his body all over. He tried to sort out words, but all he wanted was…

...Anakin? Desire flared even more sharply behind the imperative need to touch and be touched. That sound and feel in his Force senses was enticing, dragging across his libido sharply.

Anakin froze for a moment as Obi-Wan moved under his fingertips, bared his throat almost like Padmé shifting against his touch, the sound in his Master's throat an unsettling whine that was only more unsettling when Obi-Wan tried to get closer to him, his blue eyes glazed and barely half-open. He was breathing shallowly, sweat-flush already on his cheeks and in his hairline, and -- 

\-- want crashed across his mind, sudden and sharp and not his own. _Not_ his own, no, that was his Master's presence touching his mind and almost ablaze with. with arousal. What the _kriff_ had that witch done to his Master, to have that effect? "Shh," he murmured, soothing, even as he gathered Obi-Wan up closer in the arm that didn't have his comm, "shh, Master, I'm here." 

He toggled the comm on with the Force, and barked, "Cody, medevac, _now_. it's Obi-Wan." 

"Kriff, I left him at command, General!" Cody barked back, absolutely mortified that the one time he had convinced Obi-Wan to let him handle it alone… his general had somehow gotten injured. "Sending a half-squad; we're close to breaking this line, sir!"

Obi-Wan's eyes almost glazed over, before he writhed into the arm that was holding him, pressing as much of his body to Anakin's as he could. His shields were blasted to pieces, no thought in his mind but satisfying this burning need to be with Anakin, to merge their bodies as one. He got his hands on Anakin to hold on, one fisting tight in Anakin's outer tunic… and the other seeking an opening.

Desire kept slamming into him, his Master's shields shattered, flashing images of them _together_ in ways Anakin had never even thought of with anyone but Padmé, skin and sweat and hands. Nothing coherent, nothing --

\-- he caught that suddenly questing hand in his own, brushing comfort against Obi-Wan's mind as his Master whimpered in what Anakin _knew_ was desperation not just from the pitch but from the almost wail in his mind. "Shh... it's all right, Master, I'm here, I've got you..." 

He was a terrible Healer, all of his skills trained more to combat than to healing, but he tried anyway, tried to sink his power into Obi-Wan's body and fight whatever Ventress had _done_ to him. But as soon as he made contact with his Master's immune system, trying to help it work against whatever this was, get rid of it that way, he knew whatever he was up against was far beyond what he could do. 

"I know, Cody. It was Ventress, she was hunting him. I drove her back, but she's here somewhere, so watch your backs." 

"Right, sir. I'll have the gunships clear a corridor back to the ship, sir, to get you and General Kenobi out of the fighting," Cody came back, relaying more orders.

Obi-Wan twisted at the hand trapping his, then made a growling, needy noise before aiming for Anakin's throat with his mouth. Maybe that would be tempting enough to draw his intended fully into giving him what he wanted. His tongue played out over the taste of that skin beneath Anakin's ear with a hungry noise in his throat.

 _Hell_. Anakin wasn't sure which bothered him more: the protesting noise, the writhe trying to get his hand free, or the sudden pressure of Obi-Wan's _mouth_ on his skin. High, well onto his skin -- just under his ear, actually, spot that when Padmé touched always had him shuddering. No different now, apparently, with his Master's desire pouring into his mind and waking his own want despite himself. 

This wasn't right, wasn't _anything_ Obi-Wan would ever do when he was thinking -- especially not in the middle of a slagging battlefield! -- and it _shouldn't_ be affecting him at all. He took a slow breath, made himself focus, and pushed 'sleep' into his Master's mind as strongly as he ever had. 

The command managed to find a hold inside the mind only because Obi-Wan was both weakened by the drug and, as usual, running on little to no sleep… but the fever of his skin stayed high, and he continually shifted, his body still protesting the cloth constraining his skin despite the temporary reprieve of consciousness.

Fortunately, Cody ran as tight an organization as Rex, and the half-squad with a dropship was in sight at that point, giving Anakin hope of saving his Master from the witch's tampering.

+++

Anakin paced the confines of the med bay, his hand flexing with his unease as he watched the medic -- not someone he'd interacted with before, his own Kix was normally the one dealing with him -- checking diagnostic readouts. His flesh hand was still on Obi-Wan's body, reinforcing the 'sleep' command. He'd tried twice to push Obi-Wan into a healing trance -- and each time his heart rate had skyrocketed instead of slowed. 

"What are you finding?" he asked, when the beeping had gone on unbroken for longer than he could stand. 

Clone Trooper Medic Helix took a deep breath. "All adrenal action is off the charts. He is not responsive to any sedative effect; he is only unconscious because of your actions. I cannot find a way to isolate the poison; it had interacted with his biology at such a root level that I cannot determine how to separate the two. If I had access to certain human steroids and hormones, I might be able to synthesize something, but … those bio-chems are general only available for certain fields of work that are not necessarily approved by the Fleet." There was a faint flush under the medic's darker complexion to mention that last.

"...'certain fields of work', soldier?" Anakin asked, arching his right eyebrow, running the rest of that information through his mind. 

"Umm, exotic fields?" Helix offered, not really wanting to talk to a _Jedi_ about this. Some parts of the professions were very well-regulated and protected, but they'd seen some uglier sides of it on Ryloth.

Anakin cocked his head, studying the medic's face for a moment, trying to figure out what in the names of the suns he meant... and then the pure rush of his Master's desire, the way he'd tried to get inside his tunic and the mouth on his throat came back to him, and he thought he understood. 

"Sex work," he said, just to make certain they were on exactly the same page. "Whatever the kriff that witch hit him with, it's got his body revved higher than a bantha in musth, and you can't figure out how to get it out of his system without..." 

"Unfortunately, Sir," Helix said, trying to maintain the discipline of a medic when he really didn't want to be discussing this, "the General's companionship preferences are a tightly guarded matter of privacy, and I cannot point you at who might be able to assist. Those chemicals are naturally released by sexual climax, after all."

Anakin felt his Master shift in his sleep, moving against his hand spread on his chest, and gave the medic a long, edged look. If Obi-Wan was sleeping with anyone, it was news to him -- though not a surprise that he might be -- and the thought... hurt, a little. But then again, he couldn't tell Obi-Wan about his wife, so. "...I understand that. I can see the fever, the spikes in his pulse and blood pressure, that he's in pain... what's going to happen if we don't find a way to treat this?" 

"He will die, sir, and sooner rather than later," Helix said with certainty. "No antitoxin, no combination of sedatives, nothing I have available at this time, on this ship, can stop the metabolic storm he is caught in. The nearest carbonite facility is as far away as the nearest Jedi Healer… and they are both too far to be of aid."

Losing Obi-Wan was _not_ a possibility. Not like this, not _ever_. Anakin's jaw set, his hand spreading a little more over his Master's chest, as he took a slow breath. The thought of anyone else seeing his Master like he had been on that battlefield, of anyone else being so close to him when all of his defenses were down, when all of his presence in the Force was without any protection was unthinkable... more unthinkable than even the idea of betraying his own vows to his wife. He could not put his Master in any other hands -- and Obi-Wan would beat his head in himself if he even considered placing any of the clones in that kind of a position, anyway! "...how sure are you that -- sexual climax, as you put it -- will help him?" 

"Sir… the only syndromes that match what his symptoms show all tie back to mating drives or influence of sexual drugging," Helix explained. "The longer he goes in the grip of it, the longer it might take to get enough of a response, but I am ninety percent positive it will work. And one hundred percent positive that he will die without such matters being handled."

That was a nice, euphemistic way to put it, Anakin thought, before he took another slow breath. Losing Obi-Wan was _not_ happening. Not when there was a way he could save him. Padmé would -- he was almost certain -- forgive him. He hoped she would, at least. But he couldn't exactly comm her with this, and his Master was running out of time. "All right. I understand. ...how tightly can you lock this bay down, soldier, from outside?" 

"I can put it in isolation, sir," Helix said firmly. "And sir… you have my utter discretion on this. We love our general, but he'd rather die to than accept help from one of us, like this." Maybe the Commander could have helped him, but Helix wasn't certain even on that. The General was so careful to put them first, always. He then moved to escape, ready to lock down the bay so that the Jedi were completely private.

"I know he would," Anakin agreed, one corner of his mouth quirking up for a moment, before the bay sealed. He shut down the diagnostic and monitoring systems then, disconnected the sensors that went with them, and started stripping out of almost all of his clothing. When he finished, his lightsaber went on the top of the pile, and he had to just stand there for a moment, breathing and trying to get his thoughts at least vaguely organized. From the way Obi-Wan had been before he forced him into sleep, he knew his own shields were about to take a beating, and that... 

...he'd never considered what sex with another Jedi might be like. Really, never much considered sex (after his first few wary months in the Temple, at least, before he'd become fairly certain that _that_ kind of ownership wasn't in the Padawan markings), except as something he noticed an impulse towards and promptly ignored, because he couldn't imagine actually _wanting_ anyone but his angel. And she... Padmé's mind was always open to him, he could read her reactions and feel her thoughts and desires as clearly as he knew his own -- but she couldn't read his in the same way. Couldn't link in with him the way his Master could, and know every motion in advance. 

Which really, _really_ wasn't the point here. What mattered was saving Obi-Wan's life, getting this poison the witch had dosed his Master with out of his body before it could kill him. 

He looked at the narrow medical cot Obi-Wan was lying on, considered for a moment, and opened one of the cabinets to drag a trio of the spare mattress-pads for the cots down onto the floor, making something more reasonable out of them and a couple of warming blankets. One of which he would be covering them with, very shortly. 

He slid his arms under his Master's body, lifted him and laid him down onto the makeshift bed, stretched out next to him on his left side, and started drawing him back up towards consciousness. 

Obi-Wan still felt so hot, so agitated… but his chest at least was free of cloth scratching at him, mostly. There was more cloth along his side… no, that was Anakin. Hot, needy desire flowed through his body and mind, as he turned, trying to find the skin of his intended, a light whine in his throat at finding cloth everywhere his reaching hands touched.

"I'm here," Anakin told him softly, unsurprised that Obi-Wan had grabbed for him as soon as he was even half-conscious, and he brought his hand across to run his fingers lightly down one arm, the flare of need pouring from his Master making him shudder -- he couldn't ignore that, couldn't even try. "I'm right here, Master, it's all right..." 

There, that was skin, touching his. Obi-Wan moaned hungrily for more of that, eyes opening to show that his eyes were a deep shade of blue instead of their usually lighter gray-blue tint. His mind was rolling with images of being touched intimately, of having Anakin skin to skin, and kissing all he could reach of Anakin's body.

He'd never wondered what his Master might sound like like this, but the sound wrote itself into his mind and heart in ways he knew he wasn't going to be able to expunge later, and he looked back at his darkened eyes with another small shudder. The less said about the images flashing into his mind the better... but at least his Master did know it was him there with him, it wasn't someone else he was thinking of. He stroked his hand along Obi-Wan's shoulder again, the fever-heat of his skin still so worrying, but this was all he could do to help. 

The shoulder pushed up into his hand, before Obi-Wan lunged up, mouth going for the throat again. He wanted to taste, to tantalize, and Anakin's throat was always so beautiful. He didn't have to hold back; he could feel Anakin's willingness to help him…

Help him? For a half-moment Obi-Wan felt a flash of something unnatural about this, but then the blood surged through his groin again, and he whimpered into his assault on Anakin's throat.

Sudden lips on his throat, his Master's body partially on his, partially against him, and it... oh, Force help him, that felt good. He tipped his jaw back, almost despite himself, as that admiring want, the 'don't have to hold back' sliced straight into his few defenses. The thought that Obi-Wan **had** wanted him, that it wasn't just the poison killing him... he wasn't certain how much he believed it, but it cut deep into him. He held on, his palm flattening against Obi-Wan's shoulder, the skin-to-skin contact and that eager hunger rasping away at his steadiness. 

Obi-Wan's hand came around to the back of Anakin's neck, curving there, more to steady himself than to control anything. He didn't want to control this, he wanted to give himself up to all Anakin could do to him… and that thought had his hips snapping upward insistently, hating the sensation of cloth holding his desires back.

"Touch!" he managed to say, a demand and plea, before his lips and teeth traced up along Anakin's jaw.

"I am," Anakin pointed out softly, shivering against the wrap of Obi-Wan's strong, callused hand around his nape almost as much as against the wandering of lips, teeth -- and beard, oh, that was different, that was incredibly disconcerting (and entirely too erotic, if there was such a thing right now) -- along his jaw. That buck of his Master's hips in against him, the pressure of his cock against his leg, the insistent flicker-flash of images of them together were entirely too much, and his hand tightened without his real intent on his Master's shoulder and back, his body shifting to get him closer. 

"Nnnggghhh," was all that escaped Obi-Wan to be held closer. His one hand stayed on Anakin's neck, but the other began exploring ribs and abdomen, bringing new sounds of appreciation into play, ones that spoke of hunger and need all in one. The kisses and bites moved from Anakin's jaw steadily toward lips, wanting to taste him. The tumult of images in Obi-Wan's mind conveyed that desire, even as Obi-Wan 'saw' them together, nothing between them, with Anakin completely in control of their loving.

His Master's hands felt nothing but good, and the demand for a kiss that ran between them had Anakin shifting, tipping his jaw down suddenly so that Obi-Wan's mouth met his and he could give over the kiss he wanted. He shuddered hard at some of those images flashing down the bond between he and Obi-Wan, and something twisted up in the back of his head. Obi-Wan wanting him to take over was something he _truly_ hadn't expected, or planned for when he was deciding to do this. He'd been planning (in the few moments he'd let himself take to try to plan, at least) on Obi-Wan being the demanding one, the one setting what happened between them. It'd rankled, faintly, but... not nearly as much as the idea of taking this from his Master did. 

If he'd been the one submitting to whatever happened... that would have been... better. Cleaner, for after. At least the kiss was deep, intent, easy to sink into and respond to. He let those images flood in, let the knowledge of what his Master needed from him sink into his mind and his veins, and pushed the rest of the world away. //I have you, Obi-Wan,// he thought directly at his Master, his brother, //I have you.// 

The way Anakin's mouth opened to him helped ease some of the desperation Obi-Wan was feeling, and he let himself lick into it hungrily. There was something intoxicating to be kissing Anakin, to have those lips opened to his own, a forbidden pleasure that had now been attained. He moaned at the words flowing between them, rubbing his body along Anakin's in full invitation.

//Yes.//

Long-buried desires were haunting his mind, flickers of moments where Obi-Wan had looked at Anakin and forced himself to turn away. His wishes to have more of Anakin for himself were fueling the elixir, the poison, that had him seeking skin-to-skin reassurance and satisfaction.

He could feel, half see, what his Master was thinking -- if he could truly call those images thoughts -- and... so much of it was him. Him at least three years ago, padawan braid against his throat and shoulder, laughing at something, and Obi-Wan's flash of desire. Maybe two years ago, sparring, getting the better of a Djem So sequence against Master Secura (he hadn't even known his Master had been there for that), an echo of Obi-Wan's triumphant pleasure then... but not just pleasure, but desire, again? 

He whined, low in his own throat, at those and other moments flashing in his mind, and he kissed him more deeply, durasteel hand finally, carefully coming up to touch his Master. 

That drew out a low, long, throaty moan as the metal touched skin, and Obi-Wan pushed into the hold on him, throwing his head back to bare his own neck in invitation. His hips rubbed in, gaining some friction relief for his aching groin, before he moved both hands lower, trying to get Anakin's pants off of him.

//Please...// The word and need spiraled into Anakin with memories of hastily averted gazes in tight quarters that were flavored by illicit desire and careful control over the situation.

Obi-Wan asking... Obi-Wan showing him how _long_ he had wanted this -- Anakin whined, his pulse speeding up before he shifted to help. It took less than a moment to get his weight braced on his shoulders and a point in his calves, letting his Master get to his leggings to be rid of them. He hadn't expected his Master to moan for his artificial hand, but even through it he could feel how hot Obi-Wan's body was running. Hot enough that he was starting to sweat a little just from the contact with him. 

//Yes,// he answered, in the same breath as he moved. 

The elder Jedi made a whimpering noise to get to what he wanted, even as he managed to be careful with Anakin to do so. He even forgot about his own leggings briefly, bringing one hand to rest on Anakin's hip, and the other unabashedly reached and stroked along his intended's cock.

"Yes," he said out loud, mesmerized by the way Anakin's body reacted to that touch.

Oh, _kriff_. 

He knew the touch of Obi-Wan's hand like he knew the hilt of his 'saber, but he'd never felt it like this and it -- his hips rolled up, his usual attempts at guarding his responses shut off and pushed away. Hard hand, long-fingered and saber-callused and broad, nothing like Padmé's silken touch -- and still he knew (knew now, couldn't avoid knowing) that Obi-Wan had wanted to do this before. That the fascinated touch to his Master's thoughts and the hazed-sharpness in his gaze was because he'd wanted this... 

He couldn't avoid responding to that, couldn't keep his own blood from heading for his cock, and he slid his left hand up Obi-Wan's arm to his neck to take another kiss. Obi-Wan cooperated fully with that plan, even as his fingers wrapped around Anakin's shaft, stroking slowly, gently sliding up and down to encourage him. 

He was burning up, inside and out, yet his mind was mapping Anakin all over again, writing this into new memories that fit side by side with lost opportunities of the past. The closest he'd ever had were the memories of working salve into abused muscles, massages delivered with detached efficiency. Now… he had his intended's body against him, and was touching him, and was being kissed by him.

Obi-Wan did this as though he were so familiar with it, as though he preferred men, as though it was nothing but easy for him to manage that angle of wrist and arm while they kissed, and for a moment or two Anakin wondered who. Wondered and shoved it away, the unfamiliar soft-rough of Obi-Wan's moustache and beard against his lips and cheek fascinating, and he fell a little more into just kissing him, into letting his Master's hand send a little more of his ability to think completely haywire. 

Obi-Wan flicked a thumb over the tip of Anakin's cock, rubbing just a little with his fingers along the shaft. His hips were moving in time with his caressing, his own cock trapped and tortured, but he felt relief was close at hand, if he could just entice his lover further. 

//Mine?// It was a plaintive plea, edged in desire and fear alike.

Anakin moaned, soft, his body moving into Obi-Wan's hand as he kissed his Master, real want starting to tear through him... and then there was that question, mingled desire and fear -- fear, from his Master? no, that wasn't acceptable, not at all -- and he couldn't do anything but answer honestly. //If you want me, Master, yes...// 

//Yes.// The hand slid away from Anakin's length, and Obi-Wan got at his own leggings, carelessly getting them off of his body so that he could be truly skin to skin. The fever was burning him, his flesh starting to go pale white in reaction to the temperature, like a sunstroke victim… but he bucked along the hard line of his lover, sucking at Anakin's tongue in their kiss. His mind was littered with fantasy images and real, discrete observations of Anakin, from around his sixteenth nameday on.

He was _blazing_ hot, boiling with the fever, worryingly so, and Anakin moved against that rub of hips and wrap of his hand, trying to keep himself a little steady when his Master's mind kept giving him ideas he'd never even contemplated -- and showing him _how much_ attention his Master actually had been paying to him from the time he hadn't been a child anymore. He twisted under Obi-Wan's body, rolling up onto his right shoulder to pin his Master down instead. 

"Yes!" Obi-Wan flexed hard against Anakin's body, arching almost violently when it brought their cocks together. He moaned, eyes so dark when he met Anakin's gaze. "Please." The word was terse, but still in Obi-Wan's clipped, polished Core-accent. He opened his legs further, one ankle twining around Anakin's calf as his hands moved over the broad back. His mind blazed with need, with hunger, and all of it wrapped around the concept of it being Anakin that he wanted with all of his being.

"I've got you," Anakin murmured, soft, the darkness in his Master's blue eyes slicing down through his nerves as much as Obi-Wan's completely wanton shift, that splay of his body open and the wrap of his hands an addictive combination. "I've got you, Master..." 

He couldn't do anything _but_ , not now, not with Obi-Wan's heated skin against his, his Master's mind open and pleading as much as his body was, and he worked his flesh hand between their bodies, getting his fingers wrapped around them both. Felt so different than just his own, of course, and he found his mouth on Obi-Wan's sweat-slick throat. 

There was nothing intelligible to the sound that escaped Obi-Wan, his body tight with the sheer shock of pleasure to be touched like this. He worked his hips harder under Anakin, thrusting into the grip, sweat providing some aid for them. Obi-Wan's nails moved along Anakin's skin, trailing lower until he was holding on to the hips pressing down on him.

"Good… more…" he panted, giving his throat to Anakin's attentions more fully.

"Yes," Anakin answered, soft-voiced, the sheer noise Obi-Wan had made wrecking him a little more, locking him more into just this moment, just what they were doing, Obi-Wan's encouraging noises and moves... they would be incredibly erotic if his Master was actually choosing this (Not that he ever would...). Even now, they were glorious, and he sucked at his throat for a moment before remembering to be careful. He shifted a little and got his mouth on the line of a collarbone (where Padmé tended to sink her teeth on him, when they were able to be together) to suck and nip instead. 

"Yes, that," Obi-Wan encouraged, finding words more easily now that he was getting what he needed. The hand stroking him, the feel of that other cock against him, all of it was helping build toward a relief from the burning inside his veins. He held onto Anakin, wrapping Force around them both to keep them together. 

At least he was speaking a little more clearly, now? His thoughts were no more coherent, but it was a little easier to do this with Obi-Wan encouraging him and approving. He kept his hand moving -- his hips picking up that rhythm, too, his body responding to the want pouring from his Master, and he nipped again, sucked in the next moment, and his shoulders down to get into fuller contact. 

Obi-Wan's breathing began to stutter, his hips not as smooth in their flexing, before he brought both hands up to tangle in Anakin's hair, holding onto him for all he was worth as his body slammed suddenly over a peak… and yet it did nothing to alleviate the aching hardness. He whined, the sticky mess on them both, but he needed so much more, hungered for it.

"Anakin," he breathed, enticing the younger man to move this to the next level.

Hands in his hair, holding him tight, keeping his teeth pressed into his Master's skin, Obi-Wan's body shuddering erratically and suddenly releasing.... For a moment, he hoped his Master might stop burning so, might be eased, but the sound of that whine, how hard Obi-Wan still was in his hand even with his come painted on them both told him 'no', even before the pleading, wanting tone on his name confirmed it. 

This -- this was still... "What, Master? What do you want of me?" 

"You…" Obi-Wan shuddered as images of Anakin buried inside him came across, followed by Obi-Wan having Anakin. The elder man's skin flushed even hotter on that image than the first, and a groan ripped from his throat. "Anakin, my Anakin." Despite how his body was shaking with the heat of his fever, he shoved at his lover to lay back, to let him be up above again.

Those images, so vivid -- almost more sensation than image, really -- had him shuddering, even before Obi-Wan pushed at him, and he let himself roll with that push, falling back onto his back. He let his hand slip from Obi-Wan's length then, fingers sliding slick along the skin of his hip as he moved with him. He could have given his Master that, if he wanted it.... but the idea of being the one to take, when Obi-Wan couldn't actually truly say 'yes' hadn't been -- hadn't been okay. He let his thighs splay open, cradling his Master in closer, as the echo of that 'my Anakin' reverberated in his mind. 

Obi-Wan caught his breathing by the tail, bringing it back down, all on instinct. He reached down, his fingers getting coated in the mess between them before he used that to stroke Anakin's opening. A little hint of protecting Anakin was in the mind touch they shared, remembering a need to try and keep this from hurting his lover. 

It wasn't much, and Obi-Wan's need pushed him to try and take what he wanted well before Anakin was ready, causing a whimper in the elder man and worry in their link.

His wife was an an adventurous lover, daring and passionate, so this wasn't -- thank the Force -- the very first time he'd been touched like this, and he knew, a little, how to work with it. Hard, solid-muscled fingers against him, slick with his Master's come, worlds different than the oil his angel had coated her hands with, but something in him enjoyed the sheer primal physicality. His heart was hammering, his nerves singing with want and pleasure-pain alike, and he held on tightly.

The whimper, though, the worry... "Shh... shh, Master, it's all right, I'm alright, you can have me..." 

"Have?" Obi-Wan's mind tumbled over that concept even as his body sang with the need to do just that. So many small moments of watching Anakin, of turning away from his own thoughts, crowded their link before Obi-Wan carefully sank deep inside his lover. The noise Obi-Wan made was primal, rough with lust/desire, and then he was biting along Anakin's shoulder, hips pulling back to begin a rhythm for them to share.

His back bowed without his intent, but that was -- his Master's cock was far broader than Padmé's fingers, hotter than her touch had ever been, and it... he whimpered, soft, his hands clinging to his Master as he tried to manage the edge of pain and the overwhelming satisfaction he could feel in Obi-Wan's mind. He'd _wanted_ this, his Master had _wanted_ him... The teeth in his shoulder, sharp claiming pressure that traveled, marking him, felt incredible (felt like a collar, a brand, felt the same as Padmé's teeth, safe), and the pressure of Obi-Wan's hard-muscled abs against his cock was absolutely mind-blowing. 

That edge of pain tempered Obi-Wan's movements, as the intense wave of 'protect' brought Obi-Wan sharply away from sheer, brute instinct. His breathing was harsh as he made himself move slowly, his teeth and lips worrying a mark into skin. The link was flooded with the concept of cherishing this gift under the fever haze, as well as rolling with the fact that Obi-Wan loved Anakin deeply.

Hearing Obi-Wan panting, feeling him trying to control himself against the poison flooding his system and killing him, had Anakin mewling want as much as the flare of protective, possessive love did, and residual tension dropped out of his body, opening him up more, making this so much easier. 

His Master, his brother, his partner... loved him. Loved him so much, so fiercely protectively -- Anakin clung to him, clung to that knowledge, and slowly let the dozen-plus years of guarding himself against Obi-Wan's rejections fall aside, admitting it to himself and his Master alike. "I love you," he said aloud and through their link, "I love you, Master. Obi-Wan. Brother." 

"Love… you." saying the words out loud broke fear and panic across the back of Obi-Wan's mind, dark images of red and black, of loss, hidden in those shadows. Only the burning need was too great for those to gain traction, and Obi-Wan gentled his assault on Anakin's skin to kiss his throat. He slid his hands under Anakin's shoulders, wrapping his fingers around them, using that grip to pull his lover in tight against his body as he rocked them both.

He'd _never_ thought to hear those words, ever, and only that they were accompanied by such pain kept Anakin from crying out right then. He wrapped love around his Master's mind, love and faith and surety, holding on to him as the bites became a gentle kiss, as Obi-Wan moved them, moved _in_ him... made love to him. "Master," he breathed, his voice shaking, as he gave himself up. 

He was just going to have to trust his wife's heart to get them through the aftermath of this. 

"Mine, my Anakin." Obi-Wan whispered that in his ear before moving to suck at the earlobe and place tiny kisses on the skin beneath it. He rocked, increasing his pace, giving himself up to the burning need now that he had Anakin's love wrapping around him. No more pain… he didn't want to hurt Anakin… but his body was demanding and it wasn't going to take much more before he lost it.

"Yes," he answered, helpless and hungry, one foot sliding to get a better brace, to get himself a little more open, answering Obi-Wan's need with his own. He could feel how much his Master _needed_ this, needed him, and that fueled his own arousal far more than just what their bodies were doing -- though Obi-Wan's hard-muscled abdomen against his cock was doing quite a bit for that, too. 

Obi-Wan groaned softly, then moved to claim Anakin's lips, a softer but still probing kiss accompanying the first tremors of the fever breaking on his skin. 

//Yours, Anakin. Mine.// He pushed deep inside his lover, breathing shaky as he struggled to find completion. He freed one hand from Anakin's shoulder to reach between them, wrapping his hand around Anakin's cock to stroke roughly.

Anakin cried out into the kiss, arching under Obi-Wan's hand on him -- rough stroke, still desperate -- and pushing up into his thrusts, that 'yours' echoing so much, so incomprehensibly perfect... 

"Yes, yes…" Obi-Wan sped up his motions, both rocking into his lover and stroking his cock, before whimpering softly as the poisons, the delay in reaching climax, threatened to undo him completely. "Anakin," he whispered, his mind reaching for Anakin's, seeking permission or full connection, possibly both.

//Yes?// Anakin asked, opening his mind as his body shuddered, what Obi-Wan was doing to him almost too much to stand. //What -- oh, Master! -- is it?// 

Obi-Wan wrapped himself in that feeling, in the sense of Anakin's very self, and let himself go, his body breaking to the demands of the mating urge. //Yours, Ani… my love.// His grip on words vanished with that, as his body bowed and began to spasm with release and reactions to the poisons.

 _That_ was nothing he'd ever felt before, pulse deep in him, Obi-Wan's release poured into his mind as much as his body, and his own orgasm caught hold of him in a vice-grip that left him sprawled boneless under his Master's body, panting. 

Obi-Wan didn't have any strength left, his body much abused, but with the fever broken, his instinctive healing techniques were coming back, pushing him toward unconsciousness. He did move just a little, falling heavily on his lover's chest with a whine at being separated from Anakin's body even a little.

"Shh," Anakin murmured, soft and gentle, his hand sliding on Obi-Wan's skin, trying to reassure him, holding him gently, durasteel arm wrapped around him and keeping him close. "Shh, it's all right, Master..." 

"Hmm, Ani." Obi-Wan nuzzled at him, eyes closed, and murmured something that sounded a little like 'I love you'. A few twitches in his leg and arm muscles continued to keep him barely conscious. He shifted a little more, wanting to cool off now, but not wanting to lose full contact either.

Anakin stroked his hand down his back again, gentle stroke, trying to soothe him. He could feel that the poisons were losing control, that Obi-Wan was going to be okay... "Love you, Master," he murmured, soft, and stayed still. This faintly ached... but he wasn't going to try to move Obi-Wan at all. 

Obi-Wan murmured softly and then shifted fully on to his own side… grabbing at Anakin's arm to pull him along, wanting to tuck into the larger body as he began losing himself in much needed sleep. The Force-link between them rumbled with lazy/content/love as Obi-Wan did so.

Anakin whined as Obi-Wan slid the rest of the way out of him and rolled away -- he was suddenly freezing, bereft of Obi-Wan's fever-hot body over his, and he flipped a blanket out with the Force to pull it up around them as he followed Obi-Wan's pull, wrapping around him. 

"mmm, sleep," Obi-Wan rumbled, already mostly there, the Force bond pulsing with his love.

++++

Obi-Wan felt… sticky. And sore. And the room he was in smelled of … sex?

There was a body behind him, one that was longer than his own. In his mind, there was a blazing pulse of --

\-- Anakin?! No, no…. His breathing was shot as the events of the way he'd come to be here, to have Anakin cuddling him, nude, filed back into his mind like errant lothkittens.

Anakin snapped awake at the sudden flare of shock and horror in the Force, wrapping his arm tighter around Obi-Wan's body as he wrapped his presence into his Master's mind. //Shh... shh, Master, don't... breathe steady, please?// 

//Can't… Anakin… oh Anakin, I am so sorry!// There was extreme remorse and regret and shame mixed in that. He was tense, trying to pull away from the body behind him. "Anakin… please. I cannot ask you to forgive me --"

"Master," Anakin said, sharp, holding on to his Master's body as much as his mind, pushing reassurance and faith and gentle affection at him, negation of that remorse and shame. "Don't. Please don't. There's nothing _to_ forgive, especially not from you. **I'm** sorry." 

Obi-Wan flipped in Anakin's arms, clutching at him violently. "NO! Don't… don't apologize. You gave yourself to save me, to protect my men! Do NOT apologize for that, my … Anakin."

Anakin shook his head at him, freeing one hand to cup around his Master's jaw, making a low, protesting noise as he did. "No, Master. If you're going to apologize to me for what that _witch_ did to you and you couldn't help, then I damned well get to apologize for -- for... taking advantage of it! Hear me?!" 

Obi-Wan brought his forehead against Anakin's, gently, and sighed softly. "I was not apologizing for the necessity of what you did to save me." He had to close his eyes, and the mind-link was turning dark with shadows. "It was for you learning what I never meant for you to know."

Anakin shook his head a little, twisting his body to tuck himself closer to his Master, never letting that contact between their foreheads break. "No, Master," he murmured, "don't... don't be sorry for that either. Please. I..." 

He focused on the link between then, washing his incredulously delighted joy at his Master's love down it, wrapping Obi-Wan in his relief and hope... 

Obi-Wan's eyes flared open in shock; he'd thought he'd imagined Anakin's responses as strongly positive. "Ani… I… " He took a deep breath to try and center, as he struggled to understand. "You have a love, Anakin. I won't jeopardize the happiness you've found with her."

Anakin locked his eyes with his Master's, shock slamming wildly through his chest and mind alike as that simple, steady, 'you have a love' told him that every secret he was trying to keep was as transparent as glass to his Master. He swallowed once, twice, staring at Obi-Wan in complete shock. "I -- I -- Master?" 

He wasn't even sure what he was asking, there were so many options. His Master knew and hadn't said anything? His Master was aware and... protecting them? Obi-Wan would give up -- had long since _decided_ to give up -- so much of what he felt in order to keep _him_ happy? 

"She makes you happy, Anakin, something I had long since failed at," Obi-Wan said softly. "I won't abridge that. I feel confident she will understand that … you did what you had to, both to keep me alive and to protect my men from making such sacrifice. But… I never intended to let you know, to be your worst nightmares, to disgrace you."

"Master, you could _never_ disgrace me," Anakin protested, instant, shaking his head as he shifted his weight, trying to get his Master to look at him, to pay attention. But that 'be your worst nightmares'... how in the name of the _Force_ could Obi-Wan know that? "You don't -- it's not -- " 

Obi-Wan gave him a sad smile, running a hand up into Anakin's hair. If he could only have these moments, he would take them, put them inside his memories, and then let go, as he had all his life, by choice or not. "Anakin, your nightmares never failed to reach out. Or did you think it was happenstance I always came to your room with another blanket just as you were coming up from one?

"I knew what you feared that braid meant. And, you were very much like a little brother to me, almost a son as Plo Koon was given to saying of his padawans and foundlings, until… until you weren't. It was after that long separation, when I'd left you at the Temple to catch up on lessons. I came back and you were still growing into your size, but you had matured so sharply, and I… I took to watching you."

His cheeks flushed as he admitted it, his eyes dropping again. "You were so beautiful, Anakin, so tall, so … potent."

Anakin leaned back into that hand on his nape, in his hair, watching his Master speaking, and his own eyes dropped for a moment at that 'think it was happenstance', before he lifted his eyes again, paying attention to all of his words, not just the first ones, trying to sort all of that. 

And then his Master's eyes dropped, flush writing itself across his cheeks as he did, and Anakin remembered that separation. He nodded a little, showing he did. He hadn't liked it, hadn't liked Obi-Wan going off without him, but he had needed the time to learn... and there _had_ been something different when his Master came back. 

More distance, when he'd hoped they might finally get to be closer. After that... they'd had so much trouble, bickered so intently that he'd wanted to strangle him half a dozen times a ten-day. "I -- I never had any idea..." 

'So beautiful' rippled around in the back of his head, touching his cheeks with embarrassed color. "I'm just... me." 

"Anakin, how can you be so bold and proud of your ability as a Jedi, and not see your wonder as a man?" Obi-Wan asked him sincerely. He then leaned in, lightly kissing his former padawan on the lips, keeping it chaste. "Forgive me, for desiring you, for wishing… and not being able to ever meet you on terms you needed? 

"It is forbidden for Masters and Padawans to pursue anything of a sexual nature with one another before the Senior rank is bestowed. Even then, it is highly frowned on, given the power issues." Obi-Wan sighed softly. "We grew so … embattled, though. And by the time you had your Knighthood, to be my equal, you had your love. So I chose, quite properly, to protect the happiness she had brought to you."

Anakin lifted his jaw, following that kiss, taking another of his own. Gentle, easy... but not, quite, as chaste as his Master's had been, before he looked back into his eyes. "Mas -- _Obi-Wan_... there's nothing to forgive. _Nothing_ , okay? 

"It's -- " he shook his head, the words he thought he wanted flickering just out of reach, not coming clear. He had a fast, scathing wit for most situations, but this, when he needed to be honest? He felt as awkward as he ever had with Padmé, when he couldn't figure out how to say everything he needed to, how to let her know... "I didn't... You were so careful to protect me, why -- **how** could I ever hold that against you?" 

Obi-Wan drew in a deep breath and then tugged at Anakin to settle on his shoulder, trying not to read too much into that kiss. "Then… what do you want to do now, Anakin? If we just let this be, and move on… will you be alright?" he asked softly. 

Anakin shifted, following that tug, and stretched himself against the hard, solid line of his closest friend's body, nestling in, his hand reaching across for his other shoulder to hold on as he considered those two questions. He could feel his Master retreating, falling back away from him, and he clung on, tightening his hold on his mind. //Don't, Master. Don't pull away from me...// 

//Why would you want to complicate your life with this, Anakin?// The feeling of not being worthy of Anakin was strong, but it was a mask over a greater fear, one that ran soul deep. The black and red in the shadows, a flicker of a blond woman dying in Obi-Wan's arms, other impressions of death, both old and newer. //I can love you from afar, and you will be safer.//

Obi-Wan didn't think he was worthy of _him_?! Anakin shook his head sharply as he nuzzled closer, curling himself against his Master, pressing all of his negation of that foolishness across their bond. If anyone didn't deserve someone here, it was _him_ , not Obi-Wan. His master had been the best teacher he could have asked for -- except at some moments, the rage over his mother's death hissed, flashing through him for a heartbeat before he shoved it down and away -- and the best friend he had ever had. Putting up with his temper, his fits of petulance and pique -- always putting him down, slapping him into line -- 

All that fear for him distracted him from the inside of his head and he plastered himself closer yet, shaking his head. //Shh... shhh, Master, no, no, don't be afraid for me, don't -- that's no reason to push me away...// 

"It's every reason to ask you to take your joy with your Senator, Anakin," Obi-Wan said aloud. "Don't ask me to try and be strong enough to lose myself in you as I have others," he added softly. He stroked Anakin's hair, holding him close, letting his mind settle away from the fear, forcing it to be calm. "I want you to survive this war, to have your lady, and lead a new way as the Chosen One is meant to do!"

Anakin blinked for a moment, shifting into that easy caress over his hair, his cheek pressed close against Obi-Wan's shoulder, startled. "A new way, Master?" 

They were going to come back to this thing where Obi-Wan was so afraid for him (afraid to love at all, he thought) but right now he was curious about what in the stars his Master meant. Obi-Wan had been trying to push him to greater obedience to the Code his entire time with him -- and yet, had been protecting him and Padmé since the start of the war? Since Padmé had come back into his life and he'd known all over again that he was going to be her husband and lover? 

"If there is one thing this War is teaching me, Anakin, it is that the Jedi Order is going to have to adapt," Obi-Wan told him. "And I do think, in all honesty, you are meant to lead that effort. Already, there are many Masters and Knights that defer to you in how to handle the challenges we find. Have you not realized that?"

Obi-Wan had seen it, in the way Secura and Koon and even Unduli respected Anakin's judgment. It had made him feel such pride, to see Anakin grow into his potential.

"...in the field, maybe," Anakin replied, feeling that pride from his Master with a wild flash of euphoric delight, the words giving him a sudden shift in perspective about those moments, "which doesn't stop every member of the Council but you -- and maybe Master Koon -- from still loathing that I was ever brought into the Order at all." 

"You sell some of them short, Anakin. Depa has come around to understanding you more. Shaak Ti is not opposed to you in the least; she appreciates your care toward the clones. Kit worries over your recklessness, but given the loss of his former padawan, I do understand that." Obi-Wan then snorted. "But yes, the old guard, they can be terrible." 

Anakin breathed a sigh against his Master's shoulder, relaxing as Obi-Wan admitted what he knew was a plain truth, and he contemplated the idea of those three not being as opposed to him as he'd thought. He already knew he mostly liked Master Koon -- he had found Ahsoka, and loved her -- and respected as a pilot and a leader. Master Billaba was... coolly composed, most of the time, but she was good with her troops. He could believe that of Shaak Ti, too. She certainly cared for her legion; it was obvious in how she deployed them. And he actually _did_ like Kit Fisto -- but then, he didn't want to even consider the kind of person that wouldn't like Master Fisto. "Sometimes I forget Master Fisto took a Council seat," he admitted, wry-voiced. 

Obi-Wan snorted. "I think he was more stunned than I was, despite being far more suited to it." He carded his fingers through Anakin's hair. "I think, my padawan-no-longer, we both would be best served by a shower, and leaving all of this… here." //Though I do love you, Anakin, I can't jeopardize you further.// He had not truly meant to let that part leak out, but his shields were unruly at best right now.

//I love you,// Anakin answered, instant, and gathered up the mess of shock and delight and sudden need Obi-Wan's admission had first brought up in him to push it across the link. //I can't _not_ love you, I wanted so badly for you to love me for so long that knowing you _do_ is -- // 

Obi-Wan's breathing faltered at those words… and then he could not help but cling tighter to Anakin, to kiss him hard and long, despite all of his intentions to retreat and let this all be a moment borne of necessity.

How badly had he hurt his beloved, in running away from his feelings in fear of the outcome?

Anakin yelped into the kiss, startled by the sudden intensity, but he pushed into it, opening his mouth and licking at his Master's tongue, held in place by both of his Master's hands and a touch of the Force that had him shivering for it. 

//I am always here,// Obi-Wan promised him, pressing his sense of self into Anakin's mind with love and care. //But you need to talk to Padmé before we go any further than what we had to do.//

//Why is it that you manage to be right mostly when I _really_ don't want you to be?// Anakin complained, relaxing a little at that press of his Master's mind and his affection, leaning into him even as he deepened the kiss a little more. //...I don't _want_ that to be all I have of you, my Master.// 

Obi-Wan laughed ever so slightly at that into the kiss he was cooperating with. //I suppose you'll just have to be honest and charming at your lady then, to see if she is opposed to sharing you with me?//

Just offering that, though, had him almost breaking out in a sweat of fear. Everyone he loved that deeply died, and he knew it.

Anakin shuddered, full-body, at the words, his hands both clutching at his Master's shoulders, thoughts of both of their hands on him flashing across his mind, probably across the link between them, in the moment before he felt that torrent of fear, knew that his Master's body was a bare heartbeat from breaking out sweating with it, and he shoved his libido violently off to the side to wrap comfort and protection around Obi-Wan, confidence and calm. //Shh... shh, brother, shh, it's all right, I'm safe, I'm right here...//

Obi-Wan fought down the panic attack, falling into the breathing exercise he had come to rely on… and Anakin recognized as one that his former Master used heavily before the worst assaults they had faced. He had to keep the fear back; he could not become paralyzed by it.

"I'm fine," he managed, some few moments later, his lips against Anakin's throat now, leaning into all of that support. "I'm sorry; I'm working on controlling that better."

"Shhh," Anakin answered, pressing light, soft, careful kisses against his temple and cheek, the curve of a brow -- being gentle with Obi-Wan was (mostly) keeping him from wanting to rend Maul and Dooku alike into a hundred small pieces -- "no. Don't you even apologize for this, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I've got you, it's okay. 

"...I didn't know you could _be_ this afraid, but it -- it makes mine feel so much less a failure..." 

Obi-Wan ran his hand along Anakin's hip, leaning into him still. "Fear is not a failure. It is part of being a sentient being. Letting fear control you… that is the problem for a Jedi." He shook his head a little. "I try not to let it overwhelm me, but ever since Satine… it's gotten harder."

"Can I sell _tickets_ to you telling that to Master Yoda?" Anakin asked, knowing his voice was too sharp, before shifting to keep his Master closer, low, soft hum in his throat at that aching pain and the fear he could still taste. 

"And of course it has, Master... how could it not?" 

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, just letting himself focus on having Anakin close. Padmé could very well object, the Council might interfere, or one of them could die (and oh how Obi-Wan prayed it would be him, even as he knew that was cowardly), but they had this moment. 

"I will be strong and find my peace, even if I build my peace within you, my Anakin."

Anakin nodded, settling in against him again, low, soft noise in his throat at that 'my Anakin' that petted right down into his soul and wrapped around him. "Yes," he agreed quietly. "I love you. Padmé and I will talk, and then... well, then we'll see?" 

"So we will, Anakin." Obi-Wan smiled softly. "No matter what she says, I will cherish what you gave me, and rejoice in the happiness she brings you. I promise this."

Anakin nodded, taking a slow breath, filling his senses with this, with Obi-Wan's skin and the heat of his body, the warmth of his arm and the scent of sex between them, making it something he was always going to be able to recall. "...I think I want a shower, and I _know_ I'm starving and you have to be worse." 

"Food? I suppose that's a good idea. The shower is more my wish," Obi-Wan agreed.

"Well, shower first, then," Anakin agreed, rubbing his cheek against Obi-Wan's shoulder for a moment before he made himself move away from his Master's skin. 

"You, my dear one, are as much a cat as our padawan," Obi-Wan teased him.

+++++

Anakin left with everything the medic -- his name was Helix -- had been able to pull together from the traces of the drug still in the dart on a datapad, Obi-Wan having been bullied into eating and then ordered (by Helix pulling rank and him helping) to sleep, and reassurance from Snips that the 501st was still doing fine. He'd checked in from Obi-Wan's ship's bridge, so she thought he was still there, and he asked Artoo across the pickups in his fighter, "Where's Padmé supposed to be now? Coruscant or Naboo?" 

The little droid took a moment to check her schedule, then checked in with Threepio to be certain, tracing his tracker, before answering.

[Naboo. Ten-day plus three.]

"Thank the stars," Anakin murmured, plotted coordinates in a few moments, and punched his hyperdrive ring. Quick hop to a single system over to reorient, and then Naboo. He'd get back to Snips soon, but right now... he **had** to talk to his wife. 

+++

He'd made himself sleep (well, really, use Jedi hibernation) through the entire second hyperspace journey, knowing he had to be rested for... however Padmé reacted... and Artoo's gentle whistle brought him up as they reentered regular space from hyperspace. He fiddled with comm frequencies for a minute, got hold of the moon garrison's commander (one of the pilots he'd flown with all those years ago) to leave the jump ring, and let the commander get him clearance to the planet. 

He set the ship down in Theed's spaceport, flipped the hood of his cloak up to keep his all-too-recognizable face hidden, and headed for his wife's apartment complex with Artoo cheerfully whistling away at his heels. 

[Stay with Threepio?] Artoo asked him as they entered the complex, just to be sure he wasn't needed too soon. 

"Yeah," Anakin agreed, his fingers brushing over Artoo's smooth dome for a moment, "you stay with Threepio. I know you two haven't gotten to see each other much lately." 

He wasn't certain if Padmé was in the building or her office, not entirely, and didn't want to reach through the hubbub of Theed's population to try to find her, but he _did_ know her security codes. He could wait as long as he needed, once he'd gotten to her home. Their home, much as he had one that wasn't the _Resolute_. But then again, his home away from the battlefields was wherever she was. 

It said something that all he had to do was put his hood back to get through all of the security... but then again, he _did_ have a reputation on Naboo. 

Artoo beeped in cheery greetings to all the people he knew, and a couple of droids who answered in animated voices. Naboo, loving its simplistic life and freedoms, did very well by their droids, encouraging self-sufficiency with personalities. There wasn't a huge droid population by a long shot, but the ones there were well-cared for.

Of course, with Anakin being so known, it didn't take but the second security checkpoint before that post commed to the government building, requesting the senator's office.

"Ellé here, how may I assist you?"

"I wished to pass on that we have waved through the Jedi in _her_ apartment building, Milady," the guard said, not naming him but knowing it would be understood.

"My gratitude." Ellé slipped away from the comm unit, smiling at Moteé to take over before she went to the inner office, tapping discreetly and awaiting permission to enter.

"Yes?" Padmé called, putting down the datapad she was working on and lifting her eyes to the door, surprised. There shouldn't be anything that needed her attention for hours yet... 

"My Lady," Ellé said, dropping a minimal curtsy to her as she entered. "I apologize for disturbing you, but I believe you are needed at home. A certain Jedi is in your building?" She let a smile grace her lips; she was not one of the innermost circle of the handmaidens, but they all knew that things between the Hero with No Fear and their beloved Senator were intimate, at the very least.

"A certain..." Padmé's voice trailed off as fear closed itself around her throat. 

If Anakin was here, when he was supposed to be on the front lines... something terrible either had happened, or was coming. "It's hardly my building, Ellé, but thank you very much. And yes... I do think I must be needed at home. 

"Would you call for a speeder for me, while I finish with this?" 

"Yes, My Lady," Ellé answered quickly, going to see to that detail. She did hope nothing was amiss, hoping the visit was a good one.

Nor did it take long for Padmé to finish up, or have Moteé shift the various appointments of the afternoon. Soon enough, not terribly long after Anakin had settled into her apartment, she was arriving, keeping a sedate course until she had the door behind her and could show her concern.

"Anakin?!"

He was back on his feet instantly, crossing the distance between them to wrap his arms around her waist, hands spreading on her hip and between her shoulders, looking down into her eyes. She was afraid, he could feel that, and remorse slashed through him. "Someone commed you... I'm sorry, angel, I would have just waited."

"Then it can't be too serious, if you were willing to wait," she said with relief. "And yes, they commed. A Jedi appears and needs access to me? Of course they passed it on, even if you didn't make a fuss." She pressed up to kiss him then, her body flowing against his with such emphatic willingness and love.

/More like I don't want to _have_ this conversation,/ he thought in the moment before her lips were on his, her body so perfectly, softly warm in his grip, her love pouring from her mind despite that she couldn't hear him in return, and he shuddered in her arms as she kissed him, relieved and in love (afraid of her reactions) and almost as lost in her as he ever was. 

When she was quite finished kissing him, she drew his hand into hers and guided him to her bedroom. "Help me out of the gown and this hairdo; for all that it was an office day, Eirtaé outdid herself again," she said with a chuckle. "I've pushed off my appointments, so it is quite safe for me to be just myself."

He trailed her willingly, looking at the gown and the elaborate style for a moment. "You do look incredible," he admitted, "but yes, of course, Milady. Hair first?" 

He'd never expected to need to figure out how to take her hair down out of those elaborate, impossible styles, but he was discovering that he was actually fairly good at it. He could find all of the hidden clips and bands and pins with the Force, and ease them out. The assorted products, though, did give him a little more trouble. 

Today's style, though, had little enough of that, and it was easy to free the riot of her curls, to run his fingers slowly through her hair and rub at the points of tension... and she moaned into his care, letting him keep doing that even as she got at what stays she could reach of her gown.

"Thank you, Ani," she murmured softly. "You have a gentle 'touch' for that," she teased him before presenting her back to him to get the main closure of her gown.

He laughed, soft, and dipped his head to kiss the side of her throat, able for a few moments to forget everything but her, gently unfastening the gown and helping her slip out of it. Standing in sunlight and nothing but the elegant, ludicrously expensive scraps of fabric she called smallclothes (and he called temptations), she completely took his breath away, and he sent the gown to drape over a chair with a flick of his will. His hands came up in the next moment, his fingers skidding along her back so gently, his awe at her probably as obvious in his touch as it would be in the Force. 

"When you look at me like that, I almost feel I shall shatter at the slightest touch, my husband," she purred at him, before shifting her weight just slightly to pose even more enticingly to him. "It's rather well that I know the truth of the matter, that I am more than strong enough for all that you are." She didn't need to see his face to know he was worshiping her again.

She loved him, loved seeing the way he still saw her only as herself, not a powerful figure or a trophy. Here, alone, they were man and woman, husband and wife, not public figures.

"Oh, Padmé," he murmured, torn between the need to just fall into this, her, let the way that she moved and stood take him a thousand parsecs from all other thought -- and the need to lay everything at her feet before she saw his Master's marks on his skin and thought all the worst. His hands slid from her back to clutch her close to him at that thought, his heart hammering with sudden panic. "I -- all I want to do is lose myself in you. But I have to talk to you first, my wife." 

She turned in his hold, and then indicated the wardrobe. "I can dress?" she offered, uncertain if he preferred to curl in the bed or find themselves back on the couch.

"If you want," he answered, his eyes finding hers, his hands now on her back again. "I don't -- no, maybe it's best if you do. Something light, though?" he asked, pleading with her, hoping. If she only had on something light, he would feel less like she was putting a distance between them (no matter how much she might need to, after...). 

She went and pulled out a silken robe and gown, sliding into the sheer material easily. A stop at her boutique mirror found her a small hair tie to pull the mass of curls back into a loose pile behind her neck.

"Come, Ani," she said, guiding him back to the living area and onto the couch. Whatever had brought him here was serious, tearing into him, yet… what could it be, when he had not insisted on her presence immediately?

He followed her instantly, trailing her to the couch, watching as she settled on it... and he dropped onto a knee in front of her rather than sit with her, putting his hands palm-up on her knees. She was one of the only people he would _ever_ kneel to... but it felt right, with what he had to tell her. 

"Ani?" She reached out to rest a hand on his cheek. "You're worrying me, my love. Please tell me everything is fine?"

"I'm all right," he answered her, instant and honest, pressing his cheek into her hand, "and Snips is fine. The 212th is probably out for blood, and only that I'm not _telling_ the 501st is going to keep them from joining in. And Obi-Wan is -- I hope -- still okay." 

Padmé felt her breathing stutter in fear. "But he wasn't?" She moved her other hand to take both of his, as best she could, to hold on and anchor.

He tangled his fingers with hers, carefully, that sudden concern for his Master, the fear he could see in her eyes and feel in the Force something that soothed him -- if she was that instantly concerned, she would understand why he'd been so afraid -- even though it probably shouldn't. "He wasn't," Anakin agreed quietly. "I know I've cursed Ventress' name and entire lineage to you a few times?" 

"Asajj Ventress, apparently Dooku's own henchman, and Ahsoka is even more profane than you about her," Padmé said. "To the point of me learning new curses and wishing I could find a reliable teacher in Mando'a." She gave him a small smile for those words. "I take it she is behind Obi-Wan's problems?"

"Didn't I load Mando'a in Threepio's databanks?" Anakin asked, startled, before he snorted at himself. "You said teacher, not translator, and Threepio isn't a good teacher. 

"And _yes_ ," he growled, his mouth tightening, "she was. She --" His eyes shut as he looked for the words he needed. "She's been... flirting... with him for years. That's apparently not enough for her any more..." 

Padmé took a moment to shift her hand into his hair instead. "She … did something more direct? How in space could she get past his guard? He's one of the most polite men, even when he is flirting, that you know it's leading nowhere.

"To a few of my ladies' consternations."

Anakin snorted a half-helpless laugh, nodding. He'd seen the handmaidens attempt to catch Obi-Wan's attention more than once, and he always seemed to enjoy the fun, but never... never did anything about it. 

Would never, Anakin thought, with what he knew now. "Some kind of Sith alchemy is what she tried," he answered, leaning back into her hand. "I'm getting _very_ tired of all variety of hypodermic darts, my wife." 

"Oh." Padmé flicked her fingers through the hair, untangling it a bit where the half-curls were trying to not. "She drugged him. and you said Sith… so it took away his Jedi defenses." Her lips tightened in a line, not liking how this was shaping up.

He nodded once, glad to feel her hand, to see that dangerous light in her eyes and the way her lips thinned. "I wasn't even supposed to be there," he told her, still frightened and furious, "but the Force told me to go to him, and I could get away, so I did. 

"I'd barely made the planet, I was headed for the command post... and I saw him fall. Saw him fall, saw her drop off of the nearest cliff, and bolted to engage her. She fought me for longer than she _ever_ has..." 

"To take the prize she wanted," Padmé said with nearly a hiss in her voice for her loathing over that. "But you won, and you got Obi-Wan away from her," she added, knowing he had to have.

Anakin nodded, loving that hiss in her voice, her narrow-eyed tensed-mouthed anger. "She cursed me, before she ran, but she said I'd damned him to die. I had to go to him, not chase her..." 

"Of course," she said more calmly. "And the fact she personally assaulted a Jedi is reason enough for me to push Jamillia to authorize the planet level outlawing of every member of the Separatist council and their known allies. Hopefully, it will set an example to other systems, to cut down on possible havens inside the Republic." 

That Obi-Wan had been attacked at all… she was livid.

Anakin smiled up at her, so pleased at that thought, delighted at her quick wit and her intent to protect them. "I like this thought," he told her, turning his head to kiss her wrist for a moment. "I... he was whimpering, when I got to him. Awake, but not -- not coherent at all. He was so fever-hot, and the moment I touched him he... he started trying to get into my arms. 

"Or... inside my clothes," he had to admit. 

Padmé's eyebrow went up at that last, before she frowned. "As irresistible as you are, my love, I'd rather he have the choice of it. That poor man… and to think of anyone willfully doing that to another sentient!" Her anger flared hot on his senses, at Ventress.

He ducked his head a little at that 'irresistible' comment, knowing color was coming up on his cheeks. "I.... oh, I love you, my wife," he murmured, adoring her and all of her rage, her fury for Obi-Wan. "I sort of put him to sleep, to get him up to medical on the ship. 

"I thought surely the medical crew could figure out how to purge whatever it was, or with some help I could get him into trance..." 

Padmé listened to that, looked at her husband's face, his posture.

"Anakin… she drugged him. Whatever you had to do to help him, I am not upset with you." Maybe if she reassured him now, it would get him calmer, let him say it easier. "Obi-Wan is my friend, your brother. There is love there, and I would want him safe no matter what."

He shuddered hard, his forehead dropping onto her knees, his hands shifting to cling to her thighs as he buried his head against her. He was so, _so_ relieved, so much that it almost physically hurt, as he let himself burrow in close. "Oh... oh, my wife, thank you, I -- " 

"Will you come up here and let me hold you now, Ani?" she asked. "I need someone to hold, since I am certain Obi-Wan won't let me fuss over him when I see him next!" She gave a tug at his shoulders with both hands. "That you worried says good things, but it also means that you worried for nothing," she assured her husband. "I love you. I care for Obi-Wan. Of course I would want him safe, but honestly if you'd ever given any hint he and you were mutually interested, I would have been cheering you on, instead of Eirtaé and Rabé!"

He crawled up onto the couch, figuring out how he could tuck himself closest to her, somehow winding up wedged into the join of arm and back and seat with her tucked into his lap, his jaw hooked over her shoulder, clinging to her. 

What she'd said, though, the easy, entire faith in him, in them and in his Master -- he choked on the air, on his emotions, on loving her, and clung to her tighter. "I -- I've only _ever_ been yours, Padmé, it -- " 

She tipped her head so she could see him better. "I never even thought about what you might have done before me. And you never mentioned anyone after we exchanged vows, not even when we discussed Sabé. So I do know you have always been mine, but… did you think it had to be that way?" This was not getting to the root of Obi-Wan's trials but she felt like it was necessary to help her husband past his difficulties. "Naboo custom embraces any number of consenting adults to the core family."

He blinked at her, his head tipping slightly as he listened to her, torn between startlement, relief, and interest, before he nuzzled his wife again. "It does?" he asked, a little surprised. He'd just asked her what rites she wanted and needed, wanting her to be secure and beyond any reproach by her people, even if the rites had been performed in secret.

"That's... that's not a bad way to do things, I think."

Padmé leaned in and kissed his jaw lightly. "Okay, now you know. Tell me how you feel about Obi-Wan, how he is handling what happened, and what can I do to best help you both?" She was very well aware that Anakin had worked himself into knots and she wanted to get him flat and undo those… but she wanted to know their friend was going to be okay.

"How I -- " Anakin stared at her, confused at why that was the first question on her mind, why that mattered more than the rest of it... and he had _so_ little idea how to answer that question. "I feel... confused? Stunned? He -- his mind was so _open_ , Padmé... everything he felt, everything he thought, everything he's spent **so** long hiding from me..." 

"Hiding from you, is it?" Padmé slipped one hand into his tunics, going under the waist, so she could get it on his chest. "Can you tell me without betraying a confidence?" she asked, cautious of Obi-Wan's privacy.

"He told me to come talk to you," Anakin answered, shifting into her touch, relaxing at that soft, easy stroke of her hand on him, "so I think it's just fine that I tell you. 

"And yes. He was hiding from me." 

"Well, as long as you have permission," she said, stroking his skin with loving fingers. "You're calm enough that he wasn't inappropriate about what he was hiding, so I don't have to kill him… which leaves the idea he finds you as sexy as I do?" she asked, going for a light tone to try and keep Anakin on an even keel.

"You certainly don't have to -- " he'd started to protest the idea of Padmé even thinking Obi-Wan would ever hurt him... but then, hadn't that been exactly what Obi-Wan was afraid of, too? And then there were those last teasing words, and he shivered a little. 

"Um. I'm not sure 'sexy' is exactly what he would say..." 

"No?" She moved to lay a kiss along his throat. "Then he's half-blind," she said, praising her husband. "I keep interrupting you. Sorry, Ani. I missed you, and now I know things are not dire, I keep thinking on how much I have missed you."

That she was half-aroused at the idea of her husband with another man was something she'd break him to gently, later, if it proved this could be done again, without some witch and her drugs.

"...he went more for 'beautiful'," Anakin answered, tipping his head back to give her his throat, "once we were talking instead of just... keeping him alive. I missed you _madly_ , and I want to be in your bed, _soon_ , but -- need to tell you. 

"He's in love with me." 

She stopped and looked up at him, a smile breaking across her face that lit her eyes and made her shine to his Force sense. "Good! And you love him. Now, did the sex hinder or help this love that you share?" She knew those who did not like or want sex. It would be rude to presume Obi-Wan was a sexual being.

His wife, his angel, center and north star of his universe smiled in pleasure and happiness, saying 'Good!' so blatantly sincerely, shining with her satisfied pleasure, and it... he clung to her, pressing kisses everywhere he could reach for several long moments, before he could compose himself again enough to try to answer. "...definitely didn't hinder," he replied, thinking about it. "He's beyond terrified of the fact that I _know_ , but that would be true rather or not he'd -- fucked me." 

Padmé had to smile at the way Anakin managed to get that last out. "Not the way I think he'd put it, but okay." She ran her hand up to rest over his heart. "Why would he worry about you knowing? Love is a good thing, something to rejoice in, Anakin. Is this not taught by the Jedi?"

He smiled at her, wry and amused. "Aren't you the one that pointed out that love is forbidden to the Jedi, my wife? 

"And... several reasons. One doesn't matter, it's long past and over... but the second one is, well, Maul. And a bounty hunter, and every other terrible thing that has happened to the people he broke the Code _to_ love. 

"If he weren't a Jedi, I'd say he believes he's cursed..." 

"I didn't know Jedi condemned beings for living their lives, Ani. I meant in general? Or do Jedi not even bother to learn about the things that drive the people they are meant to protect and serve?" Padmé clarified. "As to that last --"

She remembered the absolute lost look on the face of their friend, so long ago, when her forces had found him and the body of the Master Jedi. She didn't know she could ever survive losing Anakin, but that there had been more… and then she recalled the rumors surrounding the Duchess of Mandalore and a Jedi.

Anakin nuzzled her for a moment, before her memory washed as strongly as a shout against his mind, and he saw the face of the boy his Master had been, empty, almost blank with an agony that was too much for words. He made a low, wounded noise, wanting to have his Master _there_ , wanting to be able to soothe that pain even though he knew it had been so long ago... 

"Shh, Ani," Padmé soothed. "I did not mean to let that come across so strongly, but your words reminded me of it." She took a deep breath. "Well, I suppose we shall just have to teach him how to love and not fear so strongly, won't we?"

"Yes," Anakin agreed entirely with her question, pressing into her hand a little more. "He's _so_ afraid, Padmé, I swear he was barely a breath from a full-out panic attack when we started discussing that I -- was _not_ okay with him trying to push me away again. That I didn't _want_ to leave it at 'medical necessity' unless you said to..." 

She nuzzled into his hold on her, and smiled tenderly. "Tell him I know, that you and he have my full blessing to explore what is right for you both." She ran her fingers down to his ribs lightly. "And if you ever coax him to the idea, I wouldn't mind a playful holiday shared with both of you."

She was not shy about sex, never had been. Anakin was a good lover, but the idea of watching him with another? That made for wonderful thoughts to bank against the long absences of her husband.

"I don't think I'll have to do much coaxing, given how he phrased something!" Anakin replied, a little hesitant and a lot amused. She felt... gentle, and steady, loving... and already aroused. At the idea of...? He'd find out in a moment. 

He had his Master's word and oath that he would never try to take Padmé from him, and that... that made it easier to think about his beloved wife and his Master/brother/lover together. But then, just knowing he had Obi-Wan's heart was so stunning that he didn't think his old jealous tendencies would rear their heads again, not -- not now. 

"Good." She moved up and kissed him fully on the mouth. When she pulled back, it was to look into his eyes. "You will take care of him, and ease him past the attack on his entire sense of self when you go back to him. For now… I think I want my husband in our bed on our homeworld," she insisted. "Unless there is more I need to know?"

Anakin paused for a moment, thinking, running through what had happened, his discussion with his Master after, and shook his head. "No, I don't think there is." 

He shifted his grip on her, just a little, making certain he could keep her safe, then pushed himself to his feet with her in his arms. "And your wish is my command, my wife." 

"Mmm, I like that idea, Ani. I command you to enjoy yourself fully with me," she said, before giggling. Then her mouth was on his throat and ear, tantalizing him as he carried her to their bed.

He laughed too, relieved -- overjoyed, exultant -- at her calm, her understanding, all of her love for him and her passion alike. He whined a little at the licks to his throat, his ear, her silk-smooth skin so different than the rasping softness of his Master's beard but every possible bit as good. He was not going to drop her, he was _not_ going to lose his balance just from her mouth... he didn't, but it was a fairly close thing before he could actually lay her down and start to strip out of the too-many-layers of Jedi raiment. 

She let the robe drop, but her eyes stayed on him, watching him strip with a predatory interest. The gown… well, she would wait until she could see all of him before she pulled it up over her head.

Boots first, 'saber and belt in the next moment -- 'saber tossed up to the headboard and gently deposited with the Force -- and then he shucked the rest of it quickly, his wife's eyes a heavier weight than usual on him when he knew his skin still bore his Master's marks, the hunger in her eyes a joy and a gift he could never get enough of. He dropped onto a knee on the bed to move to her, already -- always -- needing her. 

She took in those marks, made plans to lay her own beside, not over, all of them, before she drew off her gown and laid back among the pillows.

"I love you, Anakin, my husband, and you are so beautiful to me… especially with the proof of being cherished by another on your skin." She hoped her words would settle him further, make it clear she approved.

He paused beside her, breathless with desire and adoration, then there were those words and he shuddered, plastering his body to hers to kiss her breathless, bracing on his right arm as his left hand slid under her back. Her steadiness, her calm and her love, her acceptance... she truly was his angel. For the thousandth time, he devoted himself to her, and settled to obey that command of a few moments ago.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Washing Away the Char](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9488657) by [ilyena_sylph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilyena_sylph/pseuds/ilyena_sylph), [Merfilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly)




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